let him wake (wake him up)
by hellokhaleesi
Summary: In which Ryan is not a morning person, and Javier makes coffee.


Javier had always wondered how Ryan's hair would look post-sex. Even before all the mess started and he and his partner almost died in a house fire and there was one too many revelations for one night. Just out of curiosity. Like, how much messier could the guy's hair get, after all? He nearly always looked like he'd just stepped out of somebody's bed, which was nine types of distracting.

Sometimes, he wondered if they'd have all been better off just keeping their mouths shut and living their lives the way they were meant to. If Ryan had stayed with Jenny like he probably should have, if Javier had carried on living under a stoic mask because it was in his blood, in his training, to never let anyone see inside. Funnily enough, all those feelings of doubt would dissipate the moment Ryan would grunt in his sleep, or roll over, or Javier would catch sight of what his hair really looked like post-sex - better than he could have imagined.

Loose ends and wild strands that fell over his forehead, and the bits that stuck up in every direction. He'd had the honour of watching his partner try and tame it in the mornings, try and stick it down and make it stay, often to no avail. There was little more satisfying than watching Ryan check his hair in the glass windows at the station, trying to flatten down his uncooperative hair, while Javier sat at his desk in the full knowledge that it was his hands that had left it so unruly.

Ryan shifted, arm falling over his face even as he slept. Javier gave him another moment's peace before giving the side of the bed a kick, jolting him awake.

"Morning, sunshine," he grinned as his partner blinked rapidly, trying to gauge his whereabouts. It took a few seconds for the fog to clear - Ryan was many things, but a morning person, he was not - but his eyes quickly zeroed in on what Javier had in his hands.

"Is that coffee?" he asked hopefully, sitting up a little more.

Javier handed a cup to him; a dash of milk and enough sugar to kill a small child. Ryan took his happily, groaning and sinking into the pillows at the first sip. Keeping the cup impressively steady in his hands, he lifted his back off the bed, twisting, until it gave a satisfying crack. Javier let him, because, after all, that was a hell of a sight at 6:15am.

Ryan took another sip of his coffee, "What time do we have to be at the station?"

Slowly, Javier eased himself into the bed next to his partner, placing his own cup on the side because coffee wasn't something he indulged in often, and he didn't have nearly as much practice holding a cup in bed without spilling it as the man next to him, caffine addict that he was.

"We don't have an active case, so… nine? Give or take, unless Beckett calls us in earlier."

"What time is it now?"

"'Bout six, quarter past."

Ryan's face fell, "Is that a joke? What the hell you waking me up this early for?"

Javier rolled his eyes, "Because someone has to supply your useless ass with coffee, and it ain't gonna be you when you wake up late, __again__."

He hid his face behind his coffee cup when Ryan made an indignant sound, "Excuse me, I'm never late. I was fifteen minutes late, __once__. And whose fault was that?"

In all honesty, that had been Javier's fault. However, there was never going to be another time where he'd drive past a shop selling all five __Die Hard__ films in a special edition box set for less than $30. And, maybe sitting outside the shop until it opened wasn't the most mature or professional thing to do, but some chances were once in a lifetime, and he wasn't about to let a little thing like responsibility get in the way of Fate.

"I take the blame for that one, fine," he conceded, "but c'mon, Ryan! You're crap in the morning, you don't actually wake up until I sit you down at your desk."

There seemed to be a moment's pause while Ryan tried to concoct a come back or an excuse, his face even scrunched up like he was thinking so hard it was causing him actual pain, but he eventually gave up. Instead, he just grumbled something about "overdramatic" and drank more of his coffee. Typically, Javier wasn't one for anything remotely emotional, anything that might come under the banner of 'touchy-feely', because he just wasn't that kind of guy. Ryan knew that, he never complained about it. But in that moment, with his face half stuck in a cup as he moaned about Javier being a "drama queen", hair all over the place, the sheets pooled at his waist like he just belonged there in his bed, he got a wave of affection that he couldn't ignore.

Ignoring the fact that he was still grumbling half into a cup, Javier leant over, pressing his lips to Ryan's bare shoulder. It took half a second for Ryan's mouth to lean against the crown of his head, pressing a kiss into his hair, stopping his complaining immediately

"Got any plans for after work?" Ryan muttered. Javier grunted, signalling 'no', "They opened a new park on 5th. I was gonna take Sarah there after I'd finished, if you wanted to come."

There was just a slightest hint of insecurity in his voice, like he was worried that he'd somehow pressed too far. Like he wasn't practically living in Javier's apartment and had almost named his kid after him, like they were just dating and the fact that Ryan loved his daughter more than anything in the entire world and that a part of him would always love Jenny was some kind of secret. Like Javier didn't love Sarah, love seeing Ryan and Sarah together.

"I suppose I could manage," he said, sighing theatrically, earning a slap on the back for his trouble, "Ah, Jesus, man. Ain't no need to be so feisty."

"Git," he grumbled.

Javier snorted out a laugh, "Shut it, Ryan," He pressed another kiss to the pale skin of his shoulder, and another a little higher up, and another, until he was at the base of his neck, "Y'call me overdramatic."

"You are over dramatic," he said softly, bending his head so slightly that if it had been anyone else, Javier might have missed it, but he knew his partner better than anyone, and the shift was practically an order; _ _carry on__. Slowly, not moving his mouth from where it was gently moving against the crook of his shoulder, Javier took the nearly empty cup from Ryan and put it on the side. That was how he knew he'd read the situation right, because there was no other circumstance in which he'd let him take his coffee off of him, ever.

Javier ran his teeth over the thin skin over a vein and Ryan let out a breath through his teeth, "Better not make us late."

He let out a soft laugh, "Well, if I do, I'll be the one who explains to Gates why we were late." He punctuated the statement with another kiss, higher up his neck, making Ryan tip his head back further.

"Deal."

Careful not to stop his ministrations on his partner's neck, Javier shifted so he was braced over Ryan, lips and teeth running a path towards his jawline. Ryan's back arched further off the bed, his hands coming up to steady himself on Javier's arms. It wasn't until he reached Ryan's ear, breathing hot air against him, dragging his teeth across his ear lobe that he got a real reaction out of him.

It was one of life's great questions, one of the ones that haunted Javier right into the night; how did Kevin Ryan, Catholic school extraordinaire, learn to kiss the way he does? One of his hands slipped up, latching on to Javier's hair to haul his head back so he could kiss him, lips soft and plaint and familiar against his own. There was something about feeling his strangely innocent looking partner run teeth across his lip, feeling his tongue in his mouth, that was so beyond anything else that he'd felt before. Javier made it his mission to give as good as he got, with everything in life, but most of all here with Ryan.

Two hands at his shoulders pushed him back until he was on his knees, holding steady while Ryan pulled himself up to the same position. Javier kept him close with a hand on his jaw, and one on his waist. Why Ryan insisted on sleeping in a pair of stupid pyjama pants covered in superheroes, he'd never understand, but Javier slipped a thumb under the waistband, smoothing over the skin as they kissed. Gooseflesh sprung up across Ryan's hip, a shiver dancing down his spine, and in response, he bit down on Javier's lip, tugging it slightly.

It was fairly easy to drop Ryan onto his back - physically, they were completely unmatched - and it drew the most satisfying sounds out of him; a soft whine as their torsos were pressed together, sharp intakes of breath as Javier slipped a hand into his hair and pulled gently. Together, they shifted around a little until Javier was settled between Ryan's legs, the morning hard on he'd been sporting since just before six rubbed against the other man's thigh below him. It was clear Ryan's body was catching up with his brain as well.

If he'd have been paying attention to anything other than the way Ryan kept arching up into his body, hips pressed flush against his, skin stretched tight across his abdominals, then he might have noticed the way his foot hooked over his calf muscle, and maybe the sharp twist that landed him on his back wouldn't have been so much of a surprise.

"Cheeky brat," he muttered, making Ryan laugh into his mouth.

"Who d'you think taught me?" There was a glint in his eye and a half smile on his lips that looked simultaneously completely out of place on his usually angelic looking other half, and also all kinds of hot. Like, out of this world hot. He placed one more searing kiss to his mouth that left Javier's chest heaving, before he started to mouth at the sensitive skin under his ear.

"Ah, fuck-"

Ryan licked from his clavicle to his jaw line, and he certainly didn't know who had taught him that but he was pretty sure that he owed him a beer at the very least. He punctuated it with a sharp bite to his neck, and Javier grabbed hold of the other man's shoulders, his nails almost certainly leaving sharp red bruises on his back.

As it was, Fate had some kind of grudge against him, because they were interrupted by a sharp ringing from about three feet from them.

Javier groaned, eyeing his phone on the bedside table, more than a little out of reach, while Ryan continued to paint a trail down his neck with his tongue, which was doing all sorts of devastating things to his concentration, none of which included encouraging him in answering the phone.

He let it ring three more times before sighing, wrapping an arm around Ryan's ribs and throwing him back over so he landed on his back, Javier leant over him so he could get the phone, just in time to answer it.

"Yeah, Esposito."

" _ _Hey, Espo__ ," Beckett sounded as tired as anyone should be at half six in the morning, " _ _Sorry it's so early, but we've got a four-nineteen on Broadway__."

Ryan made an irritated noise below him, "Jesus, Kate."

There was several moments of silence, " _ _Is that- is that Ryan? What are- Oh, God, guys. Now I'm really sorry for phoning. I was going to ask you to swing by a pick Ryan up on your way, but I guess you don't have to.__ "

Javier glared at Ryan, who was stifling a laugh behind his hand, "We can be there in fifteen."

" _ _Don't slack, I'm not explaining to Gates why you two turned up late to a crime scene__ ," she warned, making Ryan laugh harder.

"Fifteen, Beckett," Javier repeated, hanging up, "You're a pain the ass."

Ryan snorted again, practically __giggling__.

Javier couldn't help but grin as well, "Jesus… anyway, go put some toast in, I'm gonna jump in the shower." Before he got up, he pressed one last kiss to his partner's lips, who chased after them when he sat up, "Keep that up and you wont have time to shower, go on, get."

Ryan shoved Javier off of him, flipping him a middle finger as he climbed off the bed. Javier watched his nail marks on pale skin disappear off in the kitchen, and felt morbidly glad that he wasn't lying on Broadway surrounded by police officers, lest he had been deprived of such a sight.


End file.
